


And A Happy New Year

by TheGoodDoctor



Series: Squad Goals [6]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Festive in ways that cannot be explained, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 18:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5426516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoodDoctor/pseuds/TheGoodDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eve's head hurts, she's not sure where she is, and somewhere Mariah Carey wants her for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And A Happy New Year

Eve comes to with a groan. She opens her eyes a crack, squinting against the bright lights. Rolling on to her side slowly, she winces and sits up, shivering. Eve scans the blank, featureless room before locating her clutch and grabbing it. She can feel the solid weight of a loaded biometric gun, so she slips the clutch into the pocket of her lemon-coloured a-line coat with its fabulously huge pockets - inside and out.

Eve swings it around her shoulders and walks towards the door a trifle unsteadily. Her head is pounding and she has no idea where she is or how she got here. The door swings open easily and she progresses down the corridor slowly. Once down a small flight of steps she realises where she is - a back office in MI6’s accounting department - but the eerie silence means she remains ill at ease. A memory flashes across her mind; stumbling this way, holding her coat and bag to her chest, desperate for a quiet place to sleep. Eve shakes her head and moves further through the room.

MI6 is still silent, even though she's heading for the busy part. Eve suddenly remembers a fruity drink being handed to her, but she can’t recall who by. She remembers drinking lots of it, though.

She sticks her head around one door in the R&D department. The Christmas tree is lying in the corner, tinsel ripped to shreds on the floor, and a pool of shattered baubles in the middle of the floor. The entire room is coated liberally in glitter, like someone's been putting fairies in a blender and left the lid off. Eve has to cover her mouth and close her eyes against the wave of nausea prompted by the mental image.

She moves on quickly, pushing back her wild hair and fishing out a beer cap thoughtfully. Eve remembers music, dancing - something about slaying? Sleighing? - and definitely Q and James had left early. Where were Bill and Gareth?

She opens the door to her office/antechamber/desk area/the honourable and glorious country of Evebekistan, zone dedicated to praise of the gambling queen/area outside M’s office. Her desk appears peaceful in the wreckage of tinsel, beer bottles, paint? and yet more glitter. Eve suddenly, vividly remembers shooting M's back with the effect of yellow bursting over his shoulders, and liberally applying painty handprints to Bill's clothing and face. M's office is locked, so she returns to Q-branch.

From here she can survey the ruins properly; at least one smashed computer, fragments of decorations everywhere, empty bottles of alcohol and minions and agents are strewn across all available surface. The photocopier looks distinctly damaged and, somewhere, Mariah Carey continues to declare just what she wants for Christmas.

Oh, yeah. Christmas party.

Bill appears at one shoulder with a steaming, sugary mug of coffee. She takes a sip as she tries to process the sudden drunken recollections her brain is piling on her.

“We lost you last night.”

She hums. “Woke up in accounting. Frankly, I'm just pleased I managed to keep my bag with me this year.”

Bill nods with a slight smile. “Relief crew are on their way. Do you want a lift home?”

“Let me wait. I want to see Q's face when he sees his branch.”

“Look upon our works, ye mighty, and despair,” Tanner says happily. “Susan from HR owes you twenty quid, Alec thirty and James fifty.”

Eve sips her coffee thoughtfully as a minion shifts on the desk. “Either M flipped out and killed someone, or Yusef and Tilda are engaged.”

“I'm pleased for them. It's sweet, in an inebriated and possibly ill-advised way.”

There is a moment of silence as a senior agent almost falls off the table, pushing another body fully onto the floor. The snoring continues unabated. Eve frowns. “Did you sing karaoke on a table?”

“Yup,” Bill winces.

“You were pretty good, you know. Impressive knowledge of N-Sync.”

“Damn straight. I crushed it,” Bill murmurs seriously and Eve snorts softly.

The door behind them opens and Q enters, looking shell shocked and leading the relief crew. Eve and Bill lean back against the barrier over the branch and grin. “And now I am become alcohol, destroyer of branches.”

“Gosh, Bill. So full of witticisms this morning,” Eve says dryly.

Tanner shrugs. “I try.”

“You're staying to help?” Q says, somewhat desperately.

“Au contraire, ma cher,” Eve says lightly. “Even better. We're going home.”

“How is that better?” Q wails at their retreating backs.

“Sorry, did I say better?” Eve mock-inquires over her shoulder as she and Bill link arms and stride towards the exit. “I meant better for us. This is _much_ better for us.”

“May viruses copulate on your holiday photos,” Q scowls.

“And a happy new year,” Bill says.

**Author's Note:**

> "Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair." Ozymandias, by Percy Bysse Shelley.  
> "And now I am become Death, destroyer of worlds." Robert Openheimer, on the first explosion of his invention, the atomic bomb.  
> Can't help feeling he may have prepared that phrase in advance. No one just says stuff like that.  
> EDIT: I am informed by the charming Lafayette1777 that the Openheimer quote is originally from the Hindu Bhagavad Gita. The more you know, huh?


End file.
